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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24957223">Comfort</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/GhostsInTheWalls/pseuds/GhostsInTheWalls'>GhostsInTheWalls</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, One Shot, Sad Hermione Granger</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 09:53:53</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,779</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24957223</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/GhostsInTheWalls/pseuds/GhostsInTheWalls</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermione Granger receives some very bad news and goes to cry in an empty classroom. Or, she thought it was empty.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>145</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>~one-shots from the members of HoneySweetWriting~</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Comfort</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/gifts"></a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Thank you VERY much to the wonderful artemisgirl for beta-ing this for me! I'm new to the world of writing and without her help, this would have been a mess.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sunlight filtered through a window at the end of one of Hogwarts’ many corridors, the halls repaired from the damage they’d sustained only a few short months ago, the light illuminating the dust particles floating in the air and warming the cold stone floor, now clean of all the bloodstains it had seen. The passageway was empty – Christmas was upon them, and the small group of students who had remained in the castle for the break were downstairs partaking in the holiday feast. The house elves down in the kitchens always went all-out for the holidays, Christmas in particular. Nobody wanted to miss out on the delectable dinner.</p><p>Except Hermione Granger.</p><p>She suddenly appeared around the corner, the clacking of her shoes echoing through the previously abandoned hallway. Grasped tightly in one white-knuckled hand was a slightly crumpled letter, the other clutching her bag to her chest. She kept her head down, eyes trained on the leather of her shoes with each step, except for a quick glance upwards to confirm that she was alone in the corridor. If somebody had been there to meet her big, brown eyes, they would have found them full of tears.</p><p>Just slightly ahead, down the stretch of hall, was Hermione’s destination – a spare classroom. She hurried to the entrance, slipping inside, and pressed the door closed behind her. A choked sob escaped her lips as she paused for just a moment before sliding down the wall, landing unceremoniously in a heap on the dirty floor. The classroom was dark and dusty, fairly small and clearly unoccupied for quite some time. Old desks and chairs were scattered around, stored here and then forgotten. All the light came through a single dirty window in the front corner by the blackboard, leaving most of the room shrouded in shadow.</p><p>Something on the other end of the space shifted, a figure unfolding itself from one of the many chairs. Hermione wasn’t alone in the room, but she didn’t notice – she had pulled her knees to her chest, buried her head in her arms, and was weeping loudly into the fabric of her sweater.</p><p>The tall figure approached the area next to the door where Hermione had settled, moving silently through the shadows, steely silver eyes taking in the sight in front of him. </p><p>“Granger?”</p><p>Hermione’s head shot up, eyes wide with alarm, scanning through the dim light for the source of the voice. Her face was red and stained with tears.</p><p>“Are you okay?”</p><p>She located the figure, biting back her surprise when Draco Malfoy stepped into the light, looking uncharacteristically rumpled. A strand of his usually immaculate hair was hanging in front of his eyes, his collar unbuttoned, and his tie loosened. The sleeves of his shirt had been rolled up to his elbows, exposing the ink of his dark mark, standing out clearly against his alabaster skin.</p><p>“Granger, I asked if you’re okay.”</p><p>Suddenly unfrozen, she tore her eyes away from Draco and shook her head as if to clear her muddled mind.</p><p>“I… I’m fine.” Her voice shook as she spoke, distress obvious in her words.</p><p>“Something about crying in an abandoned classroom tells me you’re not fine, Granger.” Draco’s words held the weight of a sarcastic remark, but his tone was gentle and quiet. He continued to walk towards her, moving slowly through the furniture.</p><p>She eyed him cautiously, feeling tears still prickling behind her eyes. At the beginning of the year, he’d caught her after class and apologized for his part in the war - both the things he’d done and the things he should have done but didn’t. As she had listened to his apology, she’d looked into his shame-filled silver eyes and realized she didn’t need to forgive him. Without knowing it, she already had.</p><p>After that, the icy hatred they’d been sharing since they were kids disappeared, but they weren’t exactly friends. She wasn’t the type to share secrets with acquaintances, let alone acquaintances who had once been an enemy. Still, as he sat on the stone beside her and reached out to touch her arm with the tips of his long fingers, she found the words tumbling from her mouth.</p><p>“I obliviated my parents.” She watched his silver eyes go wide, his hand retracting a little in surprise as her confession caught him off guard.</p><p>“Wha--” he began, but she cut him off, raising the parchment that she still clutched in her hand. The St. Mungo’s logo was peeking out from between her fingers.</p><p>“I just got word that the healers can’t restore their memories.” A single tear escaped, slipping down her cheek, and she pressed her fists against her eyes in an attempt to hold the rest back. “They’ll never remember who I am.”</p><p>A heavy silence followed. Hermione stared at the ground, eyes shiny and wet. Draco looked at her softly, his hand still resting gently on her arm.</p><p>After a couple quiet moments, Draco shifted, adjusting his position so his legs were spread and his arms were open.</p><p>“Come here.” He spoke with a firm voice, but it was still more gentle than she’d ever heard from him before. His words weren’t a request, nor were they a command. </p><p>It was an offer.</p><p>An offer she knew she shouldn’t take. There was no way this would end well – crawling into Malfoy’s arms for comfort was weird at best and dangerous at worst. But she <em>wanted</em> to. </p><p>Merlin, she was so lonely and scared. This year had been hard on everyone and for just one minute, she wanted to forget what she should or shouldn’t do or who she was or wasn’t and just… <em>be</em>.</p><p>So that’s exactly what she did. Despite her better judgement screaming at her to politely excuse herself back to her dorm where she could cry alone, she shifted on the floor and leaned into the embrace of her old enemy.</p><p>His long arms wrapped around her with ease, drawing her close against his warm chest. Hermione inhaled deeply, taking in his sharp smell. It was familiar and soothing, like a scent she was certain she’d encountered before, but couldn’t quite place. Her breathing was labored, uneven and hitching in her chest. She knew he could feel the way she was shaking – whether from sorrow, anxiety, or some combination thereof, she wasn’t really sure.</p><p>“Hermione...” Her first name seemed foreign coming from him, but she didn’t mind the way it sounded slipping through his lips. “Let it out. It’s okay, you’re safe here.”</p><p>Those were the magic words. </p><p><em>You’re safe here.</em> </p><p>She hadn’t felt safe in <em>years</em>. </p><p>Even Hogwarts, the safest place in the wizarding world, was tainted by the memories of the war. It had fallen once; it could fall again. It felt as though the ghosts of the Death Eaters patrolled the halls. There were entire corridors she couldn’t go down without remembering the empty stares of her friends and peers as they lay dead on the stone, buried in rubble or surrounded by pools of blood. Despite the best efforts of Professor McGonagall, there was a sinister chill in the air that nobody could shake, as if the whole castle was haunted by the events of last spring. The emotional toll of being constantly on edge had worn on her, and then the news of her parents…</p><p>Hermione burst into tears once again, opening the floodgates and allowing it all to pour out. She cried harder than she had in years. She cried for those who had died during the war, for those who were forever changed by it. She cried for her parents, the future they could have had. She cried simply to cry, because the emotions were all too much and had been bottled up in her for far too long. Hands desperately grasping the front of Draco’s shirt, tears soaking the fabric, she cried broken, body-wracking sobs that made her shoulders heave and her lungs burn for air.</p><p>She cried until her tears ran dry and she couldn’t cry any longer.</p><p>As she quieted down and came back to herself, she realized Draco’s hand had been rubbing slow, comforting circles on her back. His lips were pressed into her hair, and he was rocking them both slowly back and forth. It was entirely unusual, and absolutely out of character for him, but she found she liked it quite a lot.</p><p>Looking upwards, she met his eyes with hers. His eyes were somber, but there was a glint hiding in the silky silver of his irises that she didn’t quite recognize. She was trying to place it, when suddenly something dawned on her.</p><p>“Why weren’t you at the feast?” Her voice sounded hoarse from weeping.</p><p>Draco drew back slightly, breaking their eye contact as he looked away uncomfortably.</p><p>“It’s a lot harder to blend in at a table of twenty people than in a room of hundreds,” he admitted. “I didn’t want to draw attention to myself. Nobody wants me to be here.”</p><p>She mindlessly traced a design on his chest as she mulled his response over, her pointer finger drawing something only she could see. After a moment, she responded.</p><p>“I want you here,” she whispered, surprising herself when she realized that it was true. </p><p>Nobody else who had been as involved in the war as the two of them had returned to school. She had often found herself looking for Draco in the halls, in the classrooms, her deep brown eyes searching for his silver ones, simply to feel less alone. More often than not, he was already looking at her. A small smile always slipped across his face when their eyes connected, and he’d nod at her. They never spoke, but knowing that he was there and surviving just like her somehow helped comfort her and keep her afloat.</p><p>She kind of hoped they’d start speaking more often after this.</p><p>Draco didn’t respond, and she didn’t elaborate. They sat there on the floor for a long time, her resting gently in his arms. The heavy silence from earlier had dissolved, leaving a light and comfortable one in its wake. Draco was still running his hand along her back and arms, his touch leaving a trail of tingles behind. Her head was resting against his chest, his buried into her unruly curls. Between his soothing touches, the faint rhythm of his heartbeat, and the exhaustion from her emotional outburst, Hermione found herself slowly drifting off to sleep.</p><p>Right before her eyes closed completely, she could have sworn she’d heard Draco whisper.</p><p>“I love you, Hermione...”</p><p>Later, she wondered if that part had been a dream.</p>
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